


The Alternate Reality Episode

by oonaseckar



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Breaking the Fourth Wall, F/M, Fourth Wall, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:08:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22291594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oonaseckar/pseuds/oonaseckar
Summary: Stiles wakes up into another universe.  He's notcompletelycomplaining.  It has its points.
Relationships: Allison Argent/Isaac Lahey, Allison Argent/Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall, Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	1. in another universe, [the coin] does come down heads

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter title is Phillip Pullman. Ugh, Phillip Pullman.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a whooole new woooorlllld. Kissy-kissy Derek isn't the least of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is Phillip Pullman, yuuuuk.

The mole that should be adorning his mouth isn't there any more. That's the first thing that tips Stiles off. But there are a myriad of other smaller moles –- scattered over his face, neck, shoulders –- all in the wrong places. And one on his cheek, central, almost heart-shaped, a _target_.

When Derek leans in behind him, appearing in the bathroom mirror and obliviously whistling –- and kisses the errant, flagrant, new, wrong mole. That's the second clue.

Or maybe it's the whistling.

Because waking up in Derek's bed, _that's_ not it. Certainly not alone, stretched out, relaxed, and limbs flailed into full occupancy. Not that it's the first time: if a meeting goes on long enough, is snacky and protracted enough, heavy on the pizza-based starches and with beers passed from hand to hand, then often two or three lieutenants or new inductees will collapse on the sagging old couch, or have Derek steer them to his bed while he goes and sleeps out in the woods under the trees. (It's a thing, especially at full moon, and it's freaky enough they _never talk about it._ )

(It's not as freaky as the whistling. This _has_ to be the alternate reality episode. Stiles wonders if it might be the _musical_ alternate reality episode, and the chill down his back is terrifying.)

So, the waking up in Derek's room, Derek's apartment, Derek's bed, with no memory of how he got there? It's not the _Derek's bed_ part that bothers him. It's the not remembering. “Did I have more than two beers last night?” he mumbles to himself vaguely.

But we're getting ahead of ourselves a little bit. A little bit of background color to evade the whole _in media res_ issue: Alison is back from the dead and getting it on with Isaac, and the kitsune has been having all kinds of fun and messing with the usual cast. Derek has moved away, and moved back, and Stiles frankly isn't sure whether Scott is alpha or beta or C3PO or gamma-kappa-delta, at this point. First year college has come and gone, and Stiles is home for the summer and working temp admin in the sheriff's office, trying to insinuate himself into a more deputy-style role with no luck at all. His Dad has no interest in a) deputizing someone who can't concentrate on the paperwork for five minutes without veering off into a monologue, and b) has a history of being possessed by spirits and violently assaulting his best buddies with a manic grin and an axe. Iiiiit's Johnny! Oh, and c) putting a firearm in his hands, when he might easy get distracted mid-fire.

Well, to be fair, his Dad hasn't actually put any of this into so many words. But Stiles can work out most of it for himself. He doesn't resent it too much, not more than enough to cut his Dad's saturated fat allowance down by four hundred grams a week, and to stick _unmarinated_ tofu in his packed lunch three times a week. Which amounts to eating rubbery tasteless putty –- but guaranteed GMO-free!

But that's it, that's a summary of Stiles' summer, mostly. Working, weekly and sometimes bi-weekly pack meetings, hanging out with a deeply confused and turned-on Scott. (His exes are dating. Kissing in public. Still affectionate and fond with him, patting his knee, patting his hair, putting their heads on his shoulder in the coffee-shop booth. No-one's suggested a threesome yet, apparently. Stiles can't figure out why the hell not. Scott gets pretty much everything else he wants, why not this too?)

Derek seems to have oozed back into the Alpha role, complete with burning-coal eyes. He's dealt with a plague of frogs, a leprechaun economic takeover of several local businesses, and being aggressively flyered by a new dog-walking biz run by local moms, while Stiles has been away. He's rebuilt the old Hale family home, and moved back in. More than that, it feels like he's _matured_. Sure, he was technically an adult when they first met, and Stiles and Scott were just a couple of high school kids troubled by acne and wolf-bites. But given his family and psychological history, it's not unfair to characterize him, at that point, as still undergoing a prolonged adolescence with not insurmountable, but intimidating obstacles in the face of accepting adulthood and getting the fuck _over himself._


	2. life is a Whack-A-Mole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So. A world where Derek is STILES' BOYFRIEND.
> 
> Cripes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is by Réné Gaudette.

Now, as Stiles watches him over the passing weeks –- Stiles always watches Derek, always has –- it seems like he's managed to do that. He smiles more easily. (He smiles without it being just a tool to get something he wants, or something the pack needs. He smiles _at_ the pack.) And although he's still every bit as vigilant about security threats, it doesn't comprise the whole of his life, doesn't dominate his mind continually.

Stiles' first weekend back, Derek even arranged a party to welcome him home. Okay, he didn't do much of the arrangements and catering, beyond getting his wallet out. (Not as if Scott's mom and Lydia would have let him override their decisions in any case. Alphas only get to make _some_ of the decisions, in specified areas.) But it had been his idea, instigated by him, Lydia had let slip.

If it makes Stiles a little mushy –- maybe foolishly hopeful –- then he can keep that to himself.

Anyway that sets the scene. Scene set, there's the more pressing and startling matter at hand to deal with. 'Cause, a), he's late for work. Way late: and if he wasn't already enjoying the benefits of nepotism, then he'd be in trouble for sure. No, scratch that: he's working for his Dad, who is the Sheriff. He couldn't _possibly_ be in more trouble than this.

Second thing, Derek just _kissed him,_ then disappeared out of the bathroom and down the stairs. (Still whistling.) Un-selfconsciously, like they've done it before, like _he's_ done it before.

But. Hell with it, this is _Beacon Hills._ His best bud is a werewolf, and so his his Alpha/nemesis. (Boyfriend?) His favourite ginger goddess is a banshee. It's not like it would even be the first time they've experienced mass delusions or alternate realities. “Go with the flow,” he murmurs to himself. “Blend in, act normal, be part of the scenery. Collect data. Identify potential threats and neutralize. Run programs, project end-results. Get a little sugar, while you can.”

So he showers in Derek's bathroom like it's no big thing, steals a clean t-shirt out of his chest of drawers, goes downstairs and grabs a bagel and some string cheese out of the refrigerator. Derek is on the phone to what is clearly Peter –- currently scouting for new pack talent in Omaha, apparently. _Sane_ , apparently. Part of the _pack_. Well, long may he remain in Omaha. Poor old Omaha, what has it done to deserve him?

And now is probably the time to test the parameters of this alternate reality and the new intimacy it promises, with someone who's normally a big bouquet of spikes and snarls, especially regarding Stiles. Or to find out if he's just literally hallucinating, particularly regarding the last ten minutes. Stiles points at the back door, making like ' _I'm outta here, honey, see you later'_. And Derek nods, still talking, pointing at the phone, as Stiles skims past him on his way out.

Skims past, and leans in, daring himself into it. It's not like his nervy, hysterical, puttering heartbeat isn't going to be loud enough to a wolf, to totally fail to jibe with his tightly 'casual' expression. But Derek is distracted, maybe he'll get away with it. He kisses Derek's cheek, which is a little stubbly, and pine-scented like he spent the night under a Scotch fir. (And he probably did.) (And he has no extraneous moles, but then he's not a moley guy anyway. Pure untrammelled perfection in all respects, no second thoughts by Ma Nature, no slip-ups or do-overs. No sketchy scribbled-in bits, where the Almighty wasn't sure of his technique when doing nostrils or knuckles. The _bastard_. Not that he hasn't paid the price in other areas.)


	3. imagine something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is most certainly not _his_ Derek. Stiles' Derek would, he's pretty sure, never playfully slap his butt...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is Joan Aiken.

He kisses Derek's cheek, and Derek doesn't hit him around the head, or throw him across the kitchen. No, he pats Stiles' shoulder, and his hand skitters down Stiles' back in what might be an absent-minded stroke. (It's pretty ambiguous, and Derek's eyes are off in the far distance gazing out the window, as he tightly informs Peter that _no_ they're not recruiting and double-biting vamps, or wraiths, and the kelpie dominatrix Peter picked up in a skeevy leather bar is probs not the best idea either. It _could_ have been his ass, and he's not sure that he doesn't feel a phantom graze to his ass-cheek as he hits the door. He is so _definitely_ in an alternate universe.)

In the jeep he sits a moment and just sweats, staring into the wing mirror. He's not checking the street before pulling out. He's checking his cheek, the mole on his cheek, the others, the _wrongness_.

Is he dreaming, is he just delusional? He pinches himself, hard. Then he remembers being kissed, and he wonders if he wants to wake up.

It's probably good that his Dad is out chasing up ill-doers when he gets to the station. Stiles would retire to the mens' room and stare at his pigmentation some more, except that he's got a job to do if he wants to stay in burger-and-fries money for the rest of the summer. That's weird too, the work. The weirdness is that everything's the same: the research he's doing, the cases he's doing it for, the _exact sheet_ he's reached on the piles of paper on his desk from yesterday.

Not just that nothing _significant_ has changed: there's nothing, no detail, no matter how tiny, tiny as a little speck of melanin. Everything proceeds smoothly and continuously on from yesterday. Everything, barring his skin, and Derek getting fond and handsy with him.

WTF, basically. There has to be a _reason_ for an alternate reality episode. There has to be motive: someone has an end in view, and altering reality a little is what they think will get them what they want. It's how it works. There are a lot of unexpected effects, it's inevitable: Buckminster Fuller in full effect, the law of precession activated. Obviously no-one gets anything useful out of Stiles having different facial decorations, out of Derek thinking the two of them are meet-cuteing and patting and kissing each other all the time like a hand-holding married couple.

(Well, Stiles gets something out of it. But he didn't _do_ it, so that's not the end in view.)

(Well, he doesn't _think_ he's the one that did it. Not unless he ordered up a big dose of simultaneous amnesia from the universe, at the same time. He'd better look into that.)

(It's the sort of thing he _might_ do. He's not proud to admit it. It's just a fact.)

But most likely –- because this is Beacon Hills, and because it's them –- someone wants something bad. Like, something wolf-killing bad, or take-over-the-world bad, or megalomaniac hand-rubbing evil-plan bad. Mwa-ha, mwa-ha, mwa _ho ho shut the fuck up._ And they think that messing with the pack's skin, and sex-lives, and Stiles, will help them with their objective.

Stiles lays his head down on a folder of case notes, and whines a bit. He's hardly had _two hours_ to enjoy the fact that Derek is patting and kissing him on a semi-regular basis in this universe. And now he's worked out that he has a moral imperative to find out what's going on, and put it right. And then to go back to the universe where Derek would more likely boot him over a cliff and snicker about it, than greet him with a peck on the cheek, husband-like.

“ _Fuck_ my life,” he murmurs, into the anachronistic paper-and-card files. (The Sheriff is an old-school man, and a stickler for hard copy.) He contemplates pretending that he hasn't noticed, or at least putting off dealing with it for a couple of days. The speculation that things might go a step further with Derek is tantalizing, and he wonders if this-Stiles has a lot of sleepovers at the Hale house in this universe, and exactly how far this Stiles and Derek have got with their pet-names and groping.


End file.
